


what's the matter?

by GiuliaMed



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, Oneshot, POV Martino, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Smut, art student!Niccolò, they're both a bit older
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 13:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18053492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiuliaMed/pseuds/GiuliaMed
Summary: All Niccolò wants is to draw Marti. All Martino wants is to make Nico undress him.





	what's the matter?

**Author's Note:**

> Explicit! - read the tags if you don't want to be surprised by sexual content.

"Could you help me with an art project?" Nico asked five minutes after Marti arrived in the apartment. 

It was a warm summer day, sunshine came in through the window and gave Nico's bedroom a familiar afternoon glow, and although Marti didn't live here, it felt like coming home. After staying longer for a radio meeting that seemed endless, Marti had stopped by at home, not wasting time by doing anything other than eating, then walking out the door without bothering to take his school books out of the backpack.

He was sitting on Nico's bed, waiting for him to find whatever he was searching on the bookshelf. 

"What kind?" he asked, looking at the paintings on the wall above the bookshelf. Every single one was painted by Nico, and every single one harboured a story, illustrated by conceptional art that Marti didn't quite understand, but Nico told him about it sometimes, in a whispered voice, lying in bed, when Marti stayed the night.

"We have to recreate a photograph, then draw it," Nico explained and pulled out a big book. He inspected the cover, but instead of handing it to Marti, he dropped it on the desk and and went through his brushes on the shelf. 

He was already lost in his own world. Marti rolled his eyes and walked to the desk.

He opened the book - why did they need textbooks anyway? Yes, Nico had explained that they learned about art history and the lives of artists and theory of colors, but practice made perfect, right? - and went through the pages.

It wasn't the first time Marti has been the muse. He has posed for various projects already, most of them when Nico was taking a class on portrait drawings in his first semester, back in December when it was too cold to go outside and ask strangers, so he started using Martino instead. 

Sometimes Nico talked to him about abstract art, and Marti listened and only occasionally threw in his limited thoughts on the matter, but he was always happy to do it, and Nico said it fueled his creativity. Other times Marti was studying on Nico's bed, deep in thought, lying on his stomach, and Nico simply looked at him and asked if he could draw him. It didn't make a difference, so he continued with his homework and let Nico do what he did best.

"It's Chapter 14."

Marti was fidgety today, and he didn't know if he would be able to keep still for hours, but if it meant spending time with Niccolò, he'd gladly do it. He flipped through the chapter, it was a series of photographs, all of them black and white, and all of them showing a person with a different object. Some were household objects like keys or towels, some more unusual, a stuffed animal and a tuba, and Marti laughed at a man balancing a frying pan on his head. 

"I'll do whatever you choose," Nico said, flashing him a quick smile.

"Whatever?" Marti looked up at him. Normally, Nico already had an idea for his project by the time he asked him.

He shrugged. "It's supposed to be a challenge."

Nico set up his easel by the corner of the bed and closed one of the curtains halfway, which didn't darken the room, but prevented the sun from directly shining on his workspace.

Marti was turning another page, when a photo in the right corner drew his attention, and he stopped abruptly. On another day, he would have chosen something completely different, but today, he would do it.

When he held it up for Nico to see, he got a surprised eyebrow raise in response.

"Sure?"

"Don't wait until I change my mind."

Nico took a step forward to study the photograph. It showed the upper body of a man sitting against a wall, black hair in contrast to his pale skin, arms stretched out to the sides, black ropes in bows around the wrists and tied to two black posts, a calm look on his face. No clothes.

Nico looked around the room, then went to the kitchen to dig through the stuff in the drawers, only to come back with two identical pieces of black rope which he tossed onto the bed, and Marti didn't even want to know why he had them, because Nico's little apartment had _everything._ At least everything an artist needed.

"Where should I sit?" 

Nico stepped in front of him and slid his hands under the hem of Martis T-shirt, palms sliding against his skin as he pushed it up and over his head, then he led him towards the bed.

"Just get comfortable."

Marti climbed to the pillow in the middle and leaned back against the headboard, trying to find a comfortable position and rearranging the pillow behind his back. He stretched out his bare feet and crossed his ankles, and since he was wearing shorts, the bedsheet felt cool against his calves, but he had no doubt it would warm up in a few minutes, like everything did in the summer.

Nico guided his hands to each bedpost, then tied them at the wrists, careful not to put the hands above the level of his shoulders so they wouldn't go numb. The rope was so thick it couldn't dig into his skin and it wasn't even a secure tie, he just made them look like pretty bows.

"Is this okay?" he asked, cautiously testing how many fingers he could fit between the rope and Marti's arm.

"Yeah."

Nico went back to set up his board and arrange the color palette, only using shades of black, grey and white. Then he looked at him for a long time, taking in everything, and Marti knew he was in his own zone now.

Martino relaxed his face, because he knew he would have to hold the expression for some time, he's learned that. His mind wandered to the times he modelled for Filippo, but then he had another purpose, Fili usually wanted him to give as many different expressions as possible, directing him by describing emotions he wanted to see.

He observed Nico, who was constantly shifting his weight from one foot to the other while working, wearing his new white T-shirt. Marti always scolded him for painting in them, but Nico didn't care. The sunlight fell on his curls, yellow light softening his face, and it filled Marti's chest with fondness, thinking about all the free time they would have this summer. He had already planned in as many lazy days as he could get away with, preferably lying in the sun with Nico.

Nico put his tongue between his teeth, biting on it as if he was struggling with a particularly difficult spot, and Marti couldn't suppress a smile. Nico's eyes focussed on his for a second, then on Marti's left hand again, comparing it to his board.

Marti wished he had his talent, only so he could capture this moment and draw him like this, lost in thought, peaceful.

Nico looked up again and caught his eyes, and Marti was still grinning.

"Marti!" he chuckled.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"Stop." 

"But you look so cute." 

Nico's smile created wrinkles around his eyes. "You're not taking this seriously." He pretended he was mad, but it wasn't convincing.

"Alright, back to business," Marti said, putting on a serious face, and Nico laughed again.

He made himself relax, while Nico continued working.

"Hey."

"Mh?" Nico hummed, eyes on his drawing.

"Why always me?"

Nico understood what he meant. "I draw other people, too."

It was true, he had to admit. Nico has asked many of their friends to let him draw them during the past year. Some were more enthusiastic than others, and he remembered Elia having _various_ ideas for poses.

"Okay," he followed up, "why mostly me?"

"Why draw someone else when I've got a handsome boyfriend?" he asked back, eyes sparkling with amusement, and it didn’t get better than this, Marti thought, smiling back.

They often talked during these sessions, just easy and light conversations, but he was always careful not to disturb important moments, and sometimes Nico waited minutes to answer. Marti didn't mind, he loved being part of this, to be involved in something Nico loved doing.

But now, the boredom was creeping up on him and he started fidgeting, something that would most likely make Nico disapprovingly comment within the next minutes. He didn't even know why he chose this photo, it wasn't like this was a more interesting pose to keep for however long Nico needed. He tried to suppress the feeling that always came with being in the same position for a long time, the need to move, the invisible itches, but now it was worse, he was physically unable to move without destroying the ropes and it made the itch more urgent.

Nico has been working for what felt like half an hour, but he wasn't really paying attention to him, and Marti felt himself grow more and more impatient. They haven't seen each other for five days, exams taking up most of their time, and Marti missed him. Although he was standing right in front of him, he was somehow unreachable.

He let his eyes wander around the bedroom, the books, the disorganized piles of 'drawing practice' and scattered boxes with blue-rays _("Why do you still have those? This is, like, last century stuff. We can easily stream everything."-"What if there's no internet connection, Marti?")_. The room exuded such an artistic vibe that Marti sometimes expected to choke on the dust, like in an old forgotten gallery. Except, this room was never dusty because Nico worked in here constantly, always rearranging his stuff. He had finally moved into his own place after graduating and starting university, and it was even messier than his old room.

His eyes fell back on his boyfriend and he decided he had enough of this lack of attention. He waited for the next time Nico would look up.

Nico did, and he made sure to give him a suggestive look when their gazes met, but Nico only looked at him once during his efforts, and then away, not acknowledging Marti's mischievously sparkling eyes, or the corner of his mouth lifting, just slightly.

It went on like this for a few minutes, Marti trying to draw his attention, but he didn't get much of a reaction.

Then Marti lowered his eyelids and tilted his chin up, the back of his head hitting the headboard, and Nico ignored his facial expression, but Marti didn't take his eyes off him, daring him to look, and he _knew_ Nico wasn't fully focussed on drawing, he saw it in the way his mouth twitched, suppressing a smile. His eyes moved quicker over his work, not deep in thought anymore, and his lips were pressed together. Marti knew he was biting his tongue.

A minute passed and when he looked up again, Marti bit his lip, still staring, and he was being very obvious now, but it wasn't like Nico didn't know what he was trying. He was tempted to say something but didn't want to beg, so he stayed silent.

He couldn't stay still anymore, restlessness spreading in his limbs, so he uncrossed his ankles and bent his knees, sliding down into the pillow. The easel was angled away from him and he only saw the back, in a way it was comical that Nico's professor would look at his painting and grade it without knowing the story behind it.

Suddenly Niccolò put the brush down and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed, right next to him. He leaned over him to rearrange the ends of the rope on his other wrist, way too close to be unintentional, his T-shirt brushing against Marti's bare chest, and Marti held his breath and stood still. Nico pulled back and stood up, walking back to the drawing board, not meeting his eyes once.

So, two people were playing this game. 

A silent grin formed on Marti's face, but Niccolò's expression didn't reveal anything, and God, Marti adored him.

Nico went back to drawing again, and Marti waited for the times he looked up, more patient now, his efforts finally being acknowledged somehow, and when he did, Marti caught his glance, and made sure to stare right at him, tongue darting out to lick his lips, watching Nico's eyes drop down slightly, then back to his work.

This whole act would have been funny, even hilarious, considering his ridiculous attempts, if Martino wasn't _actually_ desperate for Nico today. The whole week he was waiting on the moment he could come here, only to be damned to hours of sitting still and not being close to him.

Marti waited and waited for Nico to look up again, but he was apparently being ignored now and _damn it, Nico, don't pretend you don't feel the mood changing._ If he was going to be neglected like this, he'd probably go insane within the next minutes.

As if he heard his thoughts, Nico put down the brush again and slowly walked back to sit in the same spot, an innocent smile on his lips, but this time he reached up to cup Marti's face, fingers behind his ear, thumb stroking his cheek. 

As if he only intended to look at him. As if Marti didn't want to be touched everywhere at that moment. 

He leaned in little by little, only to move to the side at the last moment and give him a kiss on his other cheek. Marti instinctively turned his face to chase after his lips, but he pulled back immediately, still with a sweet smile on his face. 

It crossed his mind that he could easily rip off the rope and pull Nico towards him, but he didn't want to.

Nico angled his body more in his direction and came closer to place a kiss behind his ear, hand still holding his face, then slid his nose down his neck and shoulder until he reached his upper arm, where he kissed the tattoo, like he often did.

Nico loved it, he had questioned him about everything, the artist, when he got it, why Martino has chosen it. He never included it in his drawings, though. When Marti had asked him about it once, he simply answered with _"this is yours"_ , as if it was something private, something he wanted Marti to have control over.

Marti wondered if this was how Nico felt about his art. 

But Marti couldn't care less about the tattoo, he'd give everything of himself to Nico.

Nico traced the same way back with his nose, even slower this time, breathing into Martino's skin, placing another kiss behind his ear where he started, and then up on his cheek and temple. Marti knew what those kisses meant, they were almost a ritual by now and he heard Nico say it countless times when giving them, it was _You are beautiful_ and _You are everything_ and _I love you_. 

But today, Nico didn't say a word. He just pressed their foreheads together and looked at him knowingly, like he was completely aware of what he was doing to him.

"Kiss me," Marti let out breathlessly. "Please."

And Nico finally leaned in to slide their lips together, breathing into his mouth and slipping in his tongue, and it was everything Marti has been waiting for all day. 

Not breaking the kiss, he climbed on top of him to sit in his lap, and Marti could suddenly sense everything. Nico's weight, the way he was moving his hips a little, their hot breath swirling in the tiny place of broken kisses only to be united again. Nico's movement wasn't enough and he pushed his hips up, increasing the pressure. 

He wanted to sink a hand in his hair, but his arms were stretched out to the sides and useless, fingers clenched but had nothing to hold on to, instead, he kissed Nico thoroughly enough to make him understand what he felt.

"Take off your shirt," he said, breaking away.

Nico obeyed immediately, pulling it over his head, messing up his curls, and kissed him again. Marti tilted his head to push a string of kisses on his jaw, but he was trapped by his position, and Nico moved so he could continue down his neck. 

With his hands digging into Marti's sides, he pressed his forehead against the bed next to Marti's ear, so that Marti could reach his collarbone, mouth gliding along, and it was as if he could smell the summer on his tanned skin, the intensity of the sun, making him sweat as soon as he stepped outside, only soothed by an occasional light breeze. 

The light pressure of Nico's movements was still not enough, and when they looked at each other again all the pretense was gone, the game forgotten, his blood was rushing lower at the sights of the look in Nico's eyes, so open and full of want. It was always the eyes that gave it away. Marti had learned to recognize when his smile didn't reach his eyes or when a comment hurt him, but his favorite by far was how willing Nico was to show his love.

"Ni," he said breathlessly, " _please._ "

Nico brushed the hair out of Marti's face and gave him one last kiss, messy and wet, before sliding down and pushing his legs apart. He opened the buttons on his shorts and pushed them down, with Marti helping by lifting his hips. Fingers pushed tentatively under the waistband of his boxer briefs, and he was already hard, but Nico came up to his face again, lingering for a moment, and gave him a small kiss, quick and full of promise. 

This time he kissed his way down his chest. Determined. Not paying attention to anything else. Taking his time.

Marti sighed, eyes wandering over Nico's shoulders, feeling a strong urge to touch him, put his hands on him, and he moved his hands to clutch the bed posts he was tied to. If he didn't have something to hold on to, he'd accidentally move too much and undo the ties. 

Finally his boxer briefs were pushed down and thrown somewhere, a hand wrapped around his cock, the touch electric, and he'd be lying if he claimed not to be endlessly turned on by this, completely being at Nico's mercy.

Nico didn't wait long. He took him into his mouth and found an even rhythm, helping with his hand. Marti took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out the rest of the world.

Fingers were grazing over the inside of his thigh and everything was too slick now for Marti to stay silent. All he could feel was the wet heat, and then Nico hummed, mouth still around him, and the vibration made him moan. He opened his eyes for a moment only to see Nico's satisfied look, before he focussed on the sensation again, his skin way too warm now. 

His pulse was racing, breaths quick and shallow, and Nico's name almost fell off his lips, but he stopped himself, somehow becoming aware of the silence Nico had established. He didn't know why, maybe it was the focus on the wordless expressions or the trust between them, but holding back his words somehow turned him on even more, so he continued panting wordlessly. 

His neck was getting sweaty and heat was pooling deep inside him, he was getting close and Nico knew it, by the way he picked up the speed and tightened his grip, and Marti revelled in every one of his touches.

The plan was to draw this out more, enjoy it a little longer, but he was overflowing with sensations and then he gave in, arching his back, not able to wait any longer. Everything dissolved into pleasure and Nico sucked him through his orgasm, putting a palm on his stomach to give him skin to push into - God he knew him so well - and then everything was quieter, Marti's moans only shallows breaths now.

Soft kisses were planted on the lower part of his stomach and he kept his eyes closed while coming down from his high, the corners of his mouth instinctively quirking up. Then he felt fumbling around his wrists, and his arms were free.

Niccolò sat on his thighs again, and he must have undressed himself in the meantime, because hot skin was brushing against his as he slid up in his lap. His face was completely changed now as opposed to the start of their game, no more hidden thoughts or expressions, everything Nico wanted was out in the open. 

Marti let his hands fall on Nico's thighs. He wanted to get up, roll them around and return the favor, but Nico pushed his shoulders into the back of the bed and kissed him, hard.

He was trapped again, now by Nico's weight, and he started stroking him and at the same time tried to return the kiss with as much passion as he could find in himself, his limbs still a little shaky, but Nico was so hard it wouldn't take long.

Nico pushed his forehead against the headboard again, unashamedly panting and moaning into his ear, and _Jesus_ it was undoubtedly the best sound he's ever heard. Marti looked down at his own hand, focussed on keeping up the fast pace to bring Nico over the edge, his other hand pressing into his lower back.

"Come on, Ni," he encouraged, and Nico's movements became more hectic. He wanted Nico to feel as good as he did, moving his palm over the skin on his back, down to his ass, onto the hips.

Nico's hand in Marti's hair pulled a little, signalling he was about to come, and Marti turned his head to suck on his throat and made sure to twist his hand a little with each stroke. Nico's mouth was close to his ear, so close, and he heard the exact moment he let go, a hitch in his loud breathing, cutting off his moans, and he came all over Marti's hand and stomach, body jerking.

Marti held him tight, held him as he gasped and then Nico's body was sinking into his, the hand in Marti's hair loosely falling to his shoulder, face nuzzling into his neck.

He waited for the breaths to even out, then looked around for something he could use to clean them up.

"I think the arrangement is ruined," he said when Nico lifted his head. He gestured to the ropes, carelessly thrown onto the bed, the bright expression on his face showing he wasn't sorry at all about it.

"It's okay." Nico kissed his cheek. "I finished it, anyway."

"What?" Marti raised his eyebrows. "You little shit."

"I may have taken a few shortcuts when you started hinting at _this_." 

A proud grin formed on Marti's face. "Is this how you treat all your models?"

"Shut up." Nico laughed and made sure Marti couldn't say anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> Life's too short, y'all!
> 
> Share your thoughts in a comment or talk to me [on tumblr!](https://annefraid.tumblr.com/post/183342650920/whats-the-matter-skam-italy)


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